


Faceless

by lanri



Series: Unseen [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Blindness, Episode: Skin, Gen, Season 1, Unseen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanri/pseuds/lanri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to Skin, Unseen ‘verse. Sam’s sometimes a liability, but he makes up for it every now and then with general awesomeness, in Dean’s opinion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faceless

This had been a bad idea.

Sam placed his hands very carefully on the trunk, taking a deep breath and resisting the urge to wring them together. It would be fine. Dean would be fine. He would take out the shifter, no problem. A couple more minutes, and he’d come back with a grin in his voice and a strong desire to go celebrate at some awful-smelling bar.

Yeah. It would be fine.

Still, Sam lifted his hands and kept them in his pockets, where he had a knife of silver and a gun loaded with silver rounds.

Even if Dean did catch the shifter, they had no way of proving to the authorities that the shifter committed the crimes. Zach would probably still get sent to prison.

Right about now, however, Sam just wanted Dean to come back.  
22 minutes and thirty seconds.

When Sam had first been blinded, he had learned that counting was a good way of keeping himself sane and coping. Unfortunately, he could also easily drive himself insane trying to count. It depended on the situation. Right about now, he was about to jump out of his skin.

Sam pricked his ears as he heard footsteps. As of so far, the street had been mostly deserted, aside from the occasional car roaring by.

“Hey, Sammy, why didn’t you keep the car going, huh?”

Sam, despite his initial feeling of relief, stiffened as Dean strode closer. He could feel something was off, and Sam had learned to rely on his instincts a long time ago.

“You get it?” he asked, shifting to stand instead of lean against the trunk.  
Dean laughed. “Yeah, shifter was trying to make his way back into the sewers. Got ‘im before he made it.”

The longer Sam listened, the more he was positive it wasn’t Dean.

“How’d you kill it?” he murmured.

“Bullet to his heart.”

Sam focused in on where the voice was coming from and without warning, leapt forward, slashing his knife.

The hissing screech that came when his knife hit flesh was confirmation of Dean not being Dean. It was a bit more of a relief than it should’ve been.

Unfortunately it wasn’t a kill blow. Sam found himself shoved back and slammed against the trunk, and then the shifter ran. Sam scrambled for his cane and followed as quickly as he could. Dean had told him the layout of the street when they had first parked, and Sam relied almost solely on his memory as he followed the pounding footsteps of the shifter. He couldn’t exactly give chase in a run, but his fast-walk was good enough.

An alleyway was ahead. At least, Sam thought there was an alleyway ahead. His foot skidded on the sidewalk, forcing him to catch a hand on the brick wall for support.  
Sam caught the rasp of a grating noise. He pressed himself flat against the wall, hoping the shifter had assumed Sam hadn’t been able to give chase.

Right. Sewers. He crept forward, tapping with his cane until he caught the lifted edge of the manhole.

Sam shifted his cane to his left hand and hefted the knife in his right. Dean was counting on him. Sam could do this.

* * *

Dean was very certain that this had been a bad idea. Not the hunt in general; the shifter had been torturing people, one of those being the girlfriend of a friend of Sam’s, and obviously they had to help.

What had been a bad idea was Dean going after the shifter alone, into its territory.

He futilely rubbed at the gag across his mouth and twisted his hands in their restraints. Sam was waiting for him, and Dean had to get himself knocked out and dragged into the sewers.

A shuffling noise caught Dean’s attention, and he pulled, trying to twist his head to see.

“Dean, you should’ve told me that our little brother was a real annoyance. I mean, you’d think even though he’s blind, he’d be smart enough to go quietly, but no, maybe he has brain damage too, huh?”

Dean schooled his face into a glare even as he tried to process the shifter’s words. His own face grimaced at him as the shifter poked at its shoulder. So it had tried to go after Sammy and gotten burned. Dean smirked.

“Yeah, you just grin. You won’t be once you’re implicated in the murder of your brother,” the shifter snarled.

Dean snarled right back, only his was a bit muted.

A splash from the tunnel behind them had the shifter whirling and Dean craning his neck.

“Interesting,” the shifter murmured, and melted back into the shadows.

Dean grunted, biting at the gag but to no avail.

“Dean?”

Internally, Dean spat curses and yelled. Despite the impressive fact that Sam had managed to find his way through the sewers, he was still at a disadvantage here.

He thumped his head back against the metal support he was tied to, and of course Sam didn’t read that as a warning to get out, just as a reason to creep closer.

“Dean, are you down here?” Sam’s whisper wasn’t quiet enough, and Dean grunted again.

Finally his brother came into Dean’s line of sight, arm outstretched and cane tapping.

Dean frantically pulled at the ropes. He couldn’t see the shifter, and he wasn’t sure if that was good or a bad thing.

“Dean.” Sam’s hand came into contact with Dean’s shoulder and his face melted in relief. “Dude, next time you run off, have a whistle or something, okay?” His fingers nimbly found the gag and began untying it.

“Nice of you to join us.”

The shifter slammed in to Sam from the side, taking both of them down to the floor of the sewer. The gag finally fell away and Dean roared out his rage and helplessness as the two of them rolled out of his sight, trading blows and taking hits.

“Sam!” Dean shouted, and then his worst fears were realized as he heard the cut-off noise of someone being choked, and his own laugh, stolen by the shifter, ringing out. Dean could hear the shifter muttering something, but couldn’t make out the words.

There was a sudden yell, not Sam’s yell, and then two gunshots.

“Sam!” Dean yelled, twisting violently in his bonds.

Then Sam was in front of him, hands roaming and finding the ropes. “I got him, Dean, it’s okay, I’ll get you out, just stay still, don’t move, I can do this, I can do this.”

Sam was babbling, which Dean felt was a bad sign, but he forced himself to stay calm regardless as Sam pulled out his knife and began cutting away the ropes.

“Sam, are you hurt?” Dean asked.

His little brother shook his head. “Not so much. You?”

Dean shrugged. “I’m good.”

Sam’s lips quirked upward, and then his hands were running over Dean’s head until they found the lump. Dean hissed and jerked away.

“Yeah. Liar.”

“Says the one with bruises on his throat,” Dean groused. Sam finally got his feet untied and he stood unsteadily, taking Sam with him.

“Let’s get out of here. This place stinks.” Sam wrinkled his nose and Dean laughed.

“What, your delicate nose can’t handle it?”

Sam was miffed. “My nose is not delicate. It’s just sensitive, because—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, your nose is special because it’s making up for your eyes. Whatever, princess. Let’s go take showers.”

* * *

“I’m sorry, Becky,” Sam murmured. “Dean told you about the eye thing on the tape, right?”

He heard Becky’s hair shifting, and hoped she was nodding. “I think the lawyers are going to use a defense consisting of Zach being drugged, which could explain his eyes and his actions.”

Sam sighed, “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. You and Zach were there at a time when I was struggling and now, I can’t . . .”

“Sam, it’s fine. You really have helped, okay? I promise. You take care of yourself, got it?”

Sam nearly flinched as she hugged him without warning, but managed to cover it by slinging an arm around her back. He smiled down, hopefully at her, and then turned, Dean’s not so discreet cough guiding him back to the car.

For a long time, both of them were silent, leaving Sam to his thoughts during the drive.

When Sam had first started hunting again with Dean, he had been fueled by grief and rage and a strong desire for revenge. He hadn’t even thought about the technical side of hunting while blind, but now, he wasn’t so sure. He was leaving Dean at risk.

The shifter’s words while it’d been choking Sam were painfully true.

“Hey, how’d you know the shifter wasn’t me?”

Sam shook himself. “Uh, you felt different.” He paused. “That sounded incredibly creepy.”

Dean grabbed him by the shoulder, squeezing. It was Dean’s code way of showing he was grinning. “Yeah, but still. I appreciate it, dude. You saved my bacon. I mean, going through the sewers and taking out the shifter? That was awesome.”

Sam allowed himself to bask in the praise momentarily before he frowned. “Dean, do you know any other hunters?”

He felt Dean’s shift on the leather of the seat. “Uh, yeah?”

“How come you don’t hunt with them?”

Dean’s confusion was almost palpable, and when he answered, it was slow, like Sam was four years old again. “Because I have you?” he responded, a ‘well, duh?’ tone in his voice.

Sam tilted his head away from Dean, towards the window. The sun beating through meant it was probably close to midday.

“I’m only half a hunter, at best. S’what Dad always said. I think . . . you should get someone else.”

Dean’s voice was startlingly cold. “You want to leave again?”

Sam shook his head gently. “No. But I’m going to get you killed.”

Dean huffed. “Only you could turn a hunt where you got to play hero into a brooding opportunity.”

Sam turned back to Dean, imagining Dean’s expression of frustration or amusement. “Dean. I’m being serious. You should’ve had legit back-up, going after that shifter. Then you never would’ve been taken in the first place.”

There was a pregnant pause, and Sam waited, patiently. He was good at that.

“Sam,” Dean finally said, “what did that shifter say to you?”

He hadn’t expected the conversation to go that way, and he bit his lip. “Uh, that’s not important. I just—”

“Sam.”

His brother could say his name in one certain way, and Sam always had to give in. “Look, it just said that you thought I was a burden. And stuff. But that’s not what this is about, this is about me getting you killed, okay?”

Dean pulled the car off the road, easing her to a stop and never saying a word.

“Dean?”

Dean’s hand landed on Sam’s neck, twisting so that Sam was facing him.

“I would tell you to look at me and see how serious I am, but you’re just going to have to listen,” he growled, “Sam, you’re not a burden. You never have been. And hey, you may be blind, but that doesn’t mean anything, okay? Not with us. You have my back in the ways that matter. So can this chick-flick moment be over already?”

Sam fidgeted and sighed, dropping his head so that his bangs would fall over his eyes, hopefully hiding the white blankness from Dean. “You’re not lying?”

“Does it sound like I am?”

Sam reluctantly shook his head, and Dean cuffed him affectionately.

“So stop whining already and let’s go celebrate, huh?”

Sam grimaced. “Does that mean bars?”

“Well . . .”

He groaned. “You’re buying.”

Dean’s grin was in his voice. “When am I not? Remember the part where you’re broke, Sammy?”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

Sam managed a smile and relaxed back into the seat.

Maybe this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.


End file.
